In Genosha
by milady dragon
Summary: AU and Crossover with The Avengers - In 1867, logger Charles Xavier teams up with mill owner Tony Stark in order to bring more settlers into Genosha Territory, to make a push toward statehood. Little did Charles know he would be smitten with one of the newcomers, Erik Lehnsher. This is also a fusion with the 60's television series, "Here Come the Brides".


In Genosha - Chapter One  


Author: Milady Dragon

Disclaimer: I don't own either "X-Men First Class", "The Avengers", or any other character you might see here.

Author's note: I'm not entirely sure where this story came from, only that I'd done a "Here Come the Brides" marathon and thought Charles would make an excellent Jason Bolt. *shrug*

Anyway, this is a fusion of the 60's TV show, "Here Come the Brides" and is based in a fictional Genosha Territory, which bears a great deal of resemblance with Washington Territory in the 1980's. Any mistakes I make are mine, since I'm relying on internet research to fill in a lot of blanks in my really uncertain knowledge of the Civil War and after.

Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

"And this is all the paperwork from the Territorial Governor's office?" Charles Xavier asked, taking the sheaf of forms that his younger brother, Hank, handed him.

"That's it," Hank confirmed, tucking his pencil behind one tufted ear. "All we need now is to get these filled out and then back to Olympia for filing."

Charles smiled. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Good work, Hank."

He blushed, the fur around his face somehow going slightly purple. "It's not that hard," he confessed. "It's just more work than either you or Raven want to deal with."

Charles laughed. "You have a point." He looked over the papers once more. Now that the War of Secession was over, Charles knew that they needed to make their own claims on the land around the town of Genosha before some enterprising carpetbagger came calling.

Their father, Brian Xavier, had come to the territory in 1851 in order to stake his own claim to what he saw as the burgeoning lumber industry in the area. Genosha Territory had become his home until he'd passed away six years ago. He'd left his business interests in the area to his three children, who had happily taken on Xavier Logging and had picked up where the elder Xavier had left off.

Genosha Territory hadn't just been a business dealing for Brian Xavier, however. It had been a haven for his three children, especially the two youngest.

Most normal people called them Cursed, but Charles' father had been convinced that the powers his children had been born with were true Gifts. Charles' telepathy, Hank's strength and blue fur, and Raven's blue scales and shape-shifting abilities had been a source of pride for Brian Xavier, and bringing them all out to the Pacific Northwest had allowed them to live as themselves, and not as society saw them.

He'd seen Genosha as a place where the ones born with extraordinary abilities could come and earn a decent living, and the Gifted now outnumbered the normal residents of the town three to one. That fact wasn't communicated, in any way, to either the Territorial Governor in Olympia or the Federal Government back in Washington, DC. After all, they were actively trying to gain support to become a state, and there were enough people who thought the Gifted were worse than the slaves that had been freed during the War of Secession. Even though that view was fading somewhat after some of the contributions that had been made during wartime, it still made sense to keep it secret until after the fact, when it would be too late to do anything about it.

Something tugged at his telepathy, and Charles sighed. "Raven's coming," he said, handing the forms back to his brother, "and she feels upset about something."

"You're not deliberately reading her, are you?" Hank asked. He didn't sound bothered by it, only curious.

Charles scoffed. "I don't have to. She's radiating agitation so hard I'm surprised _you_ can't sense it." He always tried to respect the wishes of anyone who asked him not to delve too deeply into their minds, and Raven had done so once she'd hit puberty and felt the need for privacy from well-meaning older brothers who, to be honest, didn't really want to know which one of the loggers was her crush of the week.

The door to the Xavier cabin flew open, and their sister Raven blew in, her normally blue skin flushed darker than usual. Her boots were spattered with mud from the trail, the dirt softened by last night's rain, and her red hair tangled from the rush she'd obviously been making to get home. "Charles," she said breathlessly, "Something's going on down at the camp."

"What is it?" he asked, although her mind was practically shouting it.

"Everyone's stopped work," she answered.

Hank frowned. "What do you mean, everyone's stopped work?" he practically growled.

Her yellow eyes rolled. "That's exactly what I mean. Logan's sent me up for you, Charles."

Even though all three siblings owned the land and the company equally, because Charles was the eldest he was considered the boss, and the one to make the important decisions running a business came with. If Logan was sending for him, then he knew it was serious; if it was something he couldn't handle, then Charles felt he had the right to be concerned.

Charles let his telepathy loose toward the camp up the mountain, and he didn't even have to pry anywhere to sense the discontent and resolve coming from the majority of their loggers. "Well, let's see what's going on then, shall we?"

He snagged his buckskin jacket from its hook on the wall and headed out of the cabin, knowing that Hank and Raven were just behind him. It was still early, but work had been going on since just after dawn. The scent of sea and sap and leaves sat pleasantly Charles' nostrils as he and his siblings made their way along the track from their home and to the main camp for Xavier Logging, where he could sense the majority of their workers were loitering.

They'd been living in the shadow of Westchester Mountain since his father had moved them all to the territory when Charles had been twelve. He could still remember their house in New York, where his mother had moved back to after only two years in Genosha, and it wasn't in the fondest terms. Genosha Territory was his true home, amid the trees and mountains and the freshness of the air.

Westchester Mountain might not have been the tallest of the Olympia Range, but it was still beautiful, and Charles loved living on its flanks.

"Did Logan say anything else?" he asked Raven.

"No," his sister answered. "Only that it was important that you get there as soon as possible."

The thoughts of their loggers were still indistinct, but the sense of determination was growing in his mind. He certainly hoped this could be settled quickly. While he could appreciate any concerns the workers might have, losing part of the day would put them behind. The last thing Charles wanted to happen was for Tony Stark to try to make him feel guilty about missing their contracted quota of logs, just because he was just so lousy at it, and any attempt would most likely lead to the pair of them getting drunk and planning to take over the territory.

Not that some of Tony's plans weren't good ones, of course.

"What could cause the workers to go on strike?" Hank wondered.

"Whoa," Charles came to a halt, turning to face his brother. "Raven didn't say anything about a strike." That would be a disaster if that was what was happening.

"No," Raven agreed, "I just said there wasn't any work going on."

"Which logically means some sort of strike," Hank said.

"Let's not go borrowing trouble," Charles answered breezily, spinning on his heel and heading back toward the camp. "We'll see what's going on, and fix it. I'm sure it's nothing."

"And I'm sure you're being your usual, over-optimistic self," Hank grumbled.

Charles didn't answer, since Hank could be a bit depressive. His appearance made it more obvious that he was related to Raven, while Charles looked as if he'd been adopted into the Xavier clan…which some people usually assumed upon their acquaintance with the family. Nothing could be farther from the truth; the siblings were all related by blood, it was just for some strange reason Hank and Raven got the more physical manifestations of their Gifts than Charles had.

There had been times when Charles was growing up that he could sense his father was just a little bit disappointed that Charles hadn't inherited any physical Gifts, but those times were far outweighed by Brian Xavier's overwhelming pride in his eldest son's abilities.

It took the siblings ten minutes to reach the main logging camp. The workers were milling around, and they all stepped out of their path as they made their way toward the center of the camp. There were murmurings, and Charles had to do some blocking to keep out some of the louder of the thoughts, but by the time they'd found Logan Charles knew exactly what was going on.

He'd had a feeling something like this was going to happen, and had actually talked to Tony about such an occurrence. It hadn't hurt that he'd been picking up stray thoughts on the very subject for about a month now.

Logan was waiting in front of the meal tent, leaning on an ax as he chewed on an unlit cigar. No one knew how old Logan really was; he'd been one of the very first of the Gifted to come to Genosha. He was a bulky, hairy man who seemed to fit into the town like a hand in a glove, and was well-respected by everyone. "Hey, Chuck," he greeted, taking the rather soggy cigar out of his mouth.

Logan was the only person in the territory who could get away with calling Charles, "Chuck", and that was because the older man had been the one to teach him to throw knives without his father knowing about it. He'd also been the one to somehow figure out that Charles preferred men over women. The foreman had taken the mortified then fifteen-year-old aside and told him that, 'on the frontier men outnumber women ten to one, and that sort of shit happens more than anyone wants to admit'. Logan had then given Charles a very pragmatic talk about the facts of life that he still remembered quite fondly to this day. "What's going on?"

The foreman smirked. "I think you already know." Logan was well aware of just what Charles was capable of, and he had to have guessed, with all the free-floating thoughts in camp, that Charles would have picked up everything.

Of course Logan couldn't know that Charles had been aware of it before the loggers had decided to take action.

Charles returned the smirk. "Let's pretend I don't."

"Well, I don't," Raven snarked. "So how about sharing with those of us who can't hear what the rest of us are thinking?"

"Yeah, sure," the man agreed easily. Charles knew that Logan respected his telepathy, and didn't really mind him poking around…that was, when he could. Logan's mind could be as murky as a fog rolling off the Sound at the best of times. "Most of the loggers here have been working for you and the family for years," Logan began, "and you know they respect the hell outta all three of you."

Charles did know that, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

"The problem," Logan went on, "is that we've all been living at the back-ass end of the country for a long time, without seeing anyone new. And a lot of the men and women here don't feel settled, as it were. Sure, they have homes and such here, but they don't have families to fill 'em. In fact, there hasn't been a new face in Genosha ever since that preacher came to town…but that was two years ago, and he didn't last very long." The knowing grin on Logan's face only confirmed what Charles had already known: that the foreman had been one of those who'd made certain Reverend Stryker hadn't felt welcome, not after the man's rants about saving all of the Cursed in the territory from their horrible sins. "People just don't come here, unless they're fur trappers looking to bust up Natasha's Saloon, so there's a sorta contempt for familiarity, if you know what I mean."

Charles did. Logan was right about Genosha being isolated; but then, this wasn't a bad thing, since it allowed the most physically Gifted to go about the town without question. Anywhere else, and Hank would have been stuck inside, with his blue fur; at least Raven could change her form to fit in, as much as she – and Charles – hated it.

Genosha was meant to be a place where the Gifted could live without consequence, and it was. But the workers had a point: perhaps it was time to bring more settlers in, Gifted and normals alike. Of course, Charles would prefer it to be more of the Gifted, but there were those normal humans who also had trouble fitting into society, and they would also be welcome.

The population of the town had been stagnant for years. The territory, however, had been growing very slowly ever since the boundaries for the territory had been officially set, except that it wasn't in the sort that would want to make the area their home. Charles knew that they would never become a state without enough permanent residents in place, and if Charles had his way, a majority of any new settlers would be Gifted. However, it would be difficult getting statehood ratified if the Gifted outweighed the normals, as they did in the Genosha town area. A state full of them could very well hold them back. Plus, things were much more relaxed out in the territory, law-wise, and that would concern the government as well when it would come time to apply.

They would need to worry about that latter. Now, the first step though would be to bring more people to the area and get them to settle down, preferably with the workers already there.

He could feel the eyes on him. He blinked, and then turned his best grin on Logan. "Can you get everyone back to work while I plan on how to make this actually happen?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah. They just want assurances."

"Give them just that. I think it's about time Genosha started growing."

"Charles, don't you think you're being just a bit overconfident?" Raven hissed, once the foreman was gone, moving among the loggers to tell them the news. "Just how do you expect to bring more settlers into the area?"

Charles didn't answer. Instead, he turned and left the camp, heading down the mountain toward town…

No, toward the Stark Sawmill.

Brian Xavier may have been the first to set up business in Genosha Territory, but Howard Stark hadn't been too far behind, seeing an opportunity to help his own business empire grow into an area where all he needed to do was supply a need. And what better compliment to a logging operation than a sawmill?

However, once the sawmill had been set up, the elder Stark had left it in the hands of his capable manager, Phil Coulson, and had returned back East. Coulson had done a wonderful job, and would have continued to run things if it hadn't been for young Mr. Stark, who'd come out to the territory after the War. Tony had wanted to fight for the North, but his family business had been too important to the war effort to actually let him get close to the action. That hadn't stopped Southern sympathizers from kidnapping him, and his escape was one of the greatest stories in the history of the War itself.

However, Tony had come out of it with a distaste for inventing bigger and better weapons, and he'd 'retired' to Genosha Territory to 'escape' from his responsibilities. He'd left the Stark Weapons Works to a family friend, and had retired to Genosha, bringing with him a veritable wagon train of belongings and Pepper Potts, generally known as the most organized person in the territory…and possibly in Oregon and California as well.

Charles was more than a little in awe of her, although not as much as Hank, who'd been carrying a torch for her from the moment she'd stepped off the buckboard and onto the main street of Genosha. Miss Potts had let him down easily, for which Charles had been grateful, but it hadn't stopped Hank from pining for her from afar.

The Stark Sawmill was near the Sound, where the logs could be floated down and collected by Tony's workers and then taken up to the mill. The buzz of the large saws was audible from half a mile down the trail, and Charles smiled as he made his way toward the mill's office, where Tony would be at that time of the day. Hank and Raven had followed him, shooting questions at him as they walked, but Charles had been tight-lipped, his mind going over the plans that he and Tony had once spoken of over whiskey and a game of cutthroat chess down at Natasha's Saloon.

The sawmill office was a two-story clapboard affair, just down from the main mill. Charles knew that Phil Coulson lived on the second floor, and had done since he'd taken over the mill back in 1853; Tony had built his own rather large house nearer to town, and that was also where his workshop was. The office itself was on the ground floor, and Charles let himself in, holding the door open for his siblings.

The front room was Miss Potts' office, and the lovely lady herself was at her desk, her red hair piled up on the top of her head in a sharp bun and her clothes were fashionable, yet fit for the frontier. She looked up as the Xaviers entered, and she smiled. "Mr. Xavier…Mr. Xavier…Miss Xavier…what can we do for you today?"

"Miss Potts," Charles greeted, returned her smile. "Is Tony in?"

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Where else would he be at this time of day?"

"Well, he could be down at Natasha's…"

Miss Potts chuckled. "Oh no, he knows better." She stood. "Besides, Captain Barton is in town with the supply run, and you know how much he frowns on Tony flirting with Natasha."

Charles did know, indeed. While Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov weren't a traditional couple, the Captain of the _Hawkeye _didn't care for any man making eyes at Natasha, and he could get very threatening in making that dislike known. Tony had ended up on Captain Barton's bad side more than once over the saloon owner, and it hadn't been pretty.

Not even bothering to knock, Miss Potts opened the connecting door into Tony Stark's office. "You have guests," she announced, "so set down the blueprints and put on your company face."

"I always have my company face on, Miss Potts," Tony's irreverent voice sounded from within. "I'm insulted that you'd think otherwise."

She stepped aside, letting Charles and his siblings pass. "Actually," Charles said, "if you could sit in on this, Miss Potts? I'd love to have your feedback as well."

One well-sculpted eyebrow rose, but Miss Potts entered the office with them. Charles waved her and Raven to the two empty chairs, choosing to stand. Hank positioned himself just behind Miss Potts, and it was all Charles could do not to roll his eyes at the gesture.

Tony Stark was lazing behind his desk, his swivel chair leaning back as far as it could go without tipping over. He twiddled a pencil in his dexterous fingers as he looked up at his guests. "Well, it's not often I get descended upon by the entire Xavier clan. I think the last time was my birthday…which was such a fantastic night that I don't seem to recall it."

Charles genuinely liked Tony. The man could flirt with anyone, drink a sailor under the table, and was one of the most brilliant men Charles knew. Even smarter than Hank, and that was saying something. "It's a good thing," he answered, laughing, "because you can't carry a tune in a bucket. And don't get me started on the table dance –"

"I can sing perfectly fine, thank you very much," Tony snorted. "But what brings you to my door during business hours? Please don't tell me it's time to renegotiate our contract."

"Not that, no." He knew how much Tony really hated that part of their business arrangement, and he didn't even need his telepathy to figure that out. "I just though you should know that what we talked about happened this morning."

Tony sat upright, giving Charles a shrewd look. "You know, there are times when I wish I could do what you can, it would make me a fortune at the gambling tables in San Francisco."

Charles gave him a mock glare. "I'm not going with you the next time you have the need to get drunk and pick up women that aren't loggers…or Natasha Romanov."

"Wait a second," Raven butted in, sounded very annoyed, "you _knew_ there was something up and you didn't say anything?"

"I did happen to overhear some very loud thoughts," Charles admitted, "but I didn't know anything for certain. It wasn't until this morning that I found out the loggers were serious. They might have just let it lie."

"And it wasn't a serious conversation," Tony added.

"You two were plotting to take over the country again, weren't you?" Miss Potts said knowingly.

"Not at all," Tony averred. "It was only the territory." He glanced at Charles. "I take it you really want to do this, then?"

"I do. And you know you want to, as well."

"Reading my mind, Charles?"

"I don't have to." Tony was another who accepted Charles' Gift, but he didn't want to wear out his welcome in his friend's head, so to speak.

Tony grinned. "It's a damned good thing you aren't, because even I don't like it in there sometimes." His expression faded into thoughtfulness. "If we mean to do this, there won't be any going back."

"Do what?" Hank demanded, baring his fangs. "What have you two been planning?"

Charles didn't need his Gift to know that his brother was upset at being left out of the loop. "Tony and I have discussed making a push toward statehood for the territory," he explained.

"You want to bring more Gifted in," Tony said.

"Makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does." Tony steepled his fingers, peering at Charles through them, and Charles could practically hear the gears turning in his friend's head. Enough of the Gifted were employed at the sawmill that Tony could appreciate them and how hard they worked. "So…what's your plan?"

Charles smiled. "First, I think we need to speak to Captain Barton."


End file.
